


Prevail

by dormiensa



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Break Up, Drama, F/M, Forbidden Love, Jealousy, Love Triangles, Minor Violence, Miscarriage, Plot Based on Book/Film, Post-Hogwarts, Psychological Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-16
Updated: 2014-12-16
Packaged: 2018-03-22 06:41:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3718930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dormiensa/pseuds/dormiensa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione does not know how to deal with Draco’s reappearance in her life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prevail

**Author's Note:**

> Remix of: Jane Austen's Persuasion  
> Beta: Unseenlibrarian

Hermione sighed as she closed the front door behind her and stared around her quiet flat. Except for the small table lamp charmed to switch on as soon as she came home, there was no other light to illuminate the room’s meagre furnishings. Hermione didn’t bother turning on any of the other lights as she made her way into her bedroom, undressing as she headed in to the bathroom for a quick shower. 

Feeling somewhat restored by the hot shower and diligent cleaning of her teeth, she flicked her wand a few times to put her discarded clothes into the hamper and her work shoulder-bag in the corner before climbing into bed.

The light from her living room filtered faintly into the bedroom. She never slept with the door closed now. As she settled into the covers, she gave into her usual thoughts of envy and self-recrimination whenever she came home from a night spent playing with the Weasley grandkids, actual and honorary. She loved them all and always joined in on their capers, the favourite and doting aunt. But surrounded by the quiet and dark walls of her room, the tears overflowed, and once again, she cried herself to sleep as she thought about the little one that she had lost.

***

At Sunday Brunch a few weeks ago, Ginny had told them all that she’d been seeing someone, so it was no surprise when she announced that her new boyfriend would be joining them today. Hermione wondered what sort of man Ginny would bring home this time. She also wondered how long it would take before Molly began to hint about weddings and settling down. The last one, six months ago, had been a record: Molly had held her tongue for three months. No one won _that_ bet. Hermione knew Ginny had purposely been trying to condition her mother to accept that marriage for her daughter would not happen before she was thirty, but given that all of Molly’s other children, Harry included, had toed the line, it was not to be expected that Molly would suddenly lose hope for her only daughter.

Ron had told her once that Molly, while in one of her moods, had complained that Hermione was a bad influence on Ginny, what with her independent, career-minded ways. Hermione had smiled wryly at this but not commented. How could she tell any of them that she had been more than ready to follow status quo when they had been a major part of the reason why she was still single? Hermione sighed. There was no point dwelling on it. This was her lot in life. Even her mum’s attempts to find her “a nice bloke”—and Charmaine Granger was in no way as old-fashioned about marriage as Molly Weasley—had amounted to nothing after two sets of dates. This was her punishment for not hanging onto her chance for happiness when she’d had it.

***

Hermione sat rooted to her seat. Of all the men Ginny could’ve brought home, Draco Malfoy was not only the least likely but had been crossed off the list of eligibles. The abrupt silence that descended upon The Burrow would’ve been a marvel at any other time. Not surprisingly, it was Susan who greeted them first and asked if Draco wanted something to drink. Susan had always been the peacekeeper. Brought to their senses, the rest of the clan followed suit—if some couldn’t summon enough sincerity in their hellos, at least they paid heed to a modicum of civility, so required under the circumstances.

Hermione could sense the spotlight on her when it was her turn to greet the couple. She did not embarrass her mum and managed a few minutes of conversation. What the others didn’t know was that she had perfected the ability to appear equanimous at every “family” gathering. Had she had Ginny’s temper, she would’ve cut ties with them, quit her job, and moved someplace where they would never find her.

By outward appearances, Draco seemed polite, if a bit aloof, while talking to her. She knew better, though: the tell-tale stiffness of his shoulders, the hardness of his eyes, the slight curl of contempt of his upper lip. She sighed inwardly. He had not forgiven her. And from his attentiveness toward Ginny, the light but obvious caresses given whenever possible were to show her just what she was missing, what she could have had if she hadn’t pushed him away. It hurt. And while she knew she was not solely to be blamed for their break-up, she should’ve been the stronger one, the one to defy others’ opinions and defend both of their choices. She could have given him the courage to face his parents’ disapproval. But no, she had succumbed to the pressure. And now, he was lost to her forever.

***

Over the next few weeks, Hermione began making excuses to avoid any gathering where she might see Draco and Ginny. She could not avoid the entreaties of the children to spend time with them, but she tried her best to either take them on outings with her or to visit them when she was sure she would not see the couple. She also avoided spending any time alone with either Harry or Ron because their grudging acceptance of Draco’s presence in their lives again rankled. Granted, Ginny had given the entire clan a sound and thorough telling-off when they tried to pressure her to stop seeing Draco. Still, Hermione couldn’t help feeling resentful.

Clearing out the last bit of paperwork from her inbox, Hermione also reflected bitterly that if she were in Ginny’s shoes right now, she would be revelling in her triumph. Three years after her then-head of department had told her in no uncertain terms that she would lose any chance of promotion if she continued to date “that Death Eater”, she had succeeded him. Worstall had been one of the surviving fossils from the days of Scrimgeour’s Ministry, and his removal had been a firm proclamation that Kingsley was indeed “serious” about transforming the Ministry into a more tolerant institution. Hermione had worked hard to run her department efficiently and fairly, and she was making a name for herself as a boss who valued the skills her employees brought to the table more than their connections. She was ruthless as well, having little qualms about firing those who couldn’t learn to work with the team.

Hermione sighed and angrily wiped away tears. There was no use ranting about how unfair life was. She could not undo the past. And she needed to move on, to stop giving Draco or anyone else the impression that she was still stuck in the past. She was not bereft of blessings, after all. She now had a better and closer relationship with her parents than during her Hogwarts years. She was making a variety of positive contributions to the wizarding world that she’d always hoped and was achieving them at an earlier age than even her naive younger self could’ve dreamed. And her know-it-all moniker was now much respected and even copied by some of the junior staff.

Oh, who was she kidding? She was miserable.

***

Hermione fought the impulse for as long as she could, but in the end, she gave into her curiosity and allowed the girls to tell her about Ginny and Draco. They met in France, through Quidditch. Draco had some sort of business deal with the team Ginny was playing for. And what had started as a casual fling turned into something more serious. She was single and unattached, and so was he—so said Ginny. When it came time to return home, Ginny had adamantly insisted that she cared not a fig what her family thought about him. It was high time they let go of the past. And she would be damned if she would let them walk rough-shod over her like they did—

At this point, Angelina had stuttered and looked embarrassed, avoiding all eye contact. Hermione calmed her screaming selfish demon and diverted their attention to the twins, who had been playing so quietly by themselves that it was time to check on them. To say that they had inherited their father and uncle’s penchant for mischief was an understatement. Even Molly had fondly scolded that they were a bigger handful than her own pair. 

That night, Hermione unleashed the resentment that had been festering, not only since the afternoon, but for almost a decade—had it really been that long? Her rage was at first directed at herself. She admonished her curiosity. She vacillated between berating herself of her envy toward Ginny and loathing that she had not had the strength to defy the others as the redhead had done. Her head screamed at the injustice. And then she wept. Seeing them—seeing him—happy was going to be torture, especially when it was obvious to Hermione that Draco hated her.

***

Hermione was coming out of the bathroom when she overheard the conversation.

“So, Ginny, is he good in the sack?”

“Definitely. He’s an expert G-spot finder, that’s for sure.” Yes, Hermione could attest to that. “And he makes all sorts of really adorable noises when I’m going down on him.” Hermione smiled unconsciously as she recalled. Yes, and he begged like a little boy wanting sweets just before he came. It was always fun to tease him and draw out the exquisite torture as long as possible because a satiated, panting, grinning-like-a-fool Draco Malfoy was a glorious sight to see. He’d always claimed she was the only one who could make him come that hard. Hermione frowned and wondered if Ginny now held that honour.

“ … But the thing that bothers me—well, I shouldn’t say ‘bother’, but I guess I just don’t have the patience for it—is that he spends a lot of time with foreplay, and I just want him inside me pounding away already.”

“Are you insane, Ginny? I’d never let George out of bed if he would spend even an extra five minutes fondling my breasts.”

“You don’t know how lucky you are, Ginny. Not to complain about Ron’s skills, but he’s just like most guys: they want to be pumping away and satisfying their cocks.” Hermione was in full agreement. When Draco was in a generous mood, he’d willingly forgo penetration altogether and come all over the bed sheets if he could give her multiple orgasms with just fingers and tongue. It was the most enigmatic and endearing part of him: he could be a completely selfish arse about things like tolerating those he considered idiots, but he was the most giving of lovers.

“Well, enough gossiping, delicious as it is. We’d better get downstairs before they start missing us. Or worse, the children have made a mess, and Hermione’s the only one cleaning up after them.”

“We really need to find that special someone for her.”

“Yeah, and make her stop working those ridiculously long hours.”

Hermione hid in the room next door while the girls filed out of Ginny’s room. Checking for a safe spot in the yard to Apparate to, she exited the room with a soft “pop” and went in search of the children. She found them still playing their own made-up game of Quidditch-tag and soon saw their mothers coming out of the house to fetch them and bring them home.

***

“ … And I told them that the only reason I transferred back to the Harpies was because I wanted to spend some time with family, but if they weren’t going to be welcoming, I would do one season and then go back to France with a clear conscience. The manager of _Les Gargoilles de Guerande_ told me that, whenever I wanted to return, she’d make sure I had a spot on the team’s starting line-up. So, if my family thinks they can dictate what I do with my life … ” Ginny bit into her scone and took a sip of tea. “I told them they won’t win. They may have managed to break _your_ secret engagement with Draco, but they won’t break _us_ up.”

“Ginny!” Hermione’s cup clattered against its saucer.

“What? You don’t need to look so shocked. Draco told me about the engagement. It’s about time the rest of them learned the truth. You should’ve done that to begin with, instead of keeping it secret. They might have backed off. And I told them it’s all their fault that you’re still single and unhappy. When I left for France, you had everything going for you: a job that had potential for making a difference, a happy relationship, parents with restored memories, and a network of friends who were ready to support you in getting rid of the old prejudices. I’m not home for several years, and look what’s happened. You’re married to your job, you haven’t been on a date for a whole _year_ , and your so-called friends are so absorbed in their own happiness that they can’t see how lonely _you’ve_ been—and how withdrawn. _I_ saw right away that you’ve been putting up a front. Why? To make them feel better? They don’t even _know_ how much misery they caused until I told them. If I were you, I would’ve just up and left. I’m _sure_ there’s another Ministry that’d be more than happy to hire one of the war heroines who helped defeat Voldemort.”

“Ginny, I appreciate you standing up for me, but you had no right to tell them all that. Now, they’re going to feel the need to tiptoe around me—oh, poor Hermione, we must be extra kind to her—”

“And so they should! Look, ’Mione, you’re always putting everyone else’s happiness before your own. That’s not right.”

“I haven’t! If I had, Draco and I … ” Hermione gasped in embarrassment, “I-I’m sorry, forget I said—excuse me … ” Fumbling out of her chair, Hermione grabbed her purse and ran out of the cafe.

***

Hermione turned off her music with a sigh. She had to stop listening to _Les Mis_. At first, the songs of revolution and change had helped inspire and keep her focussed on her job, especially on days when bureaucracy became too much to handle. Why were all government institutions inherently inefficient? Magic seemed only to increase the redundancy. Of course, when Ginny had returned home with Draco in tow, Hermione had started identifying with Eponine and hated herself for it.

Today, she understood Fantine, and she knew she couldn’t listen to the recording anymore.

***

“Padma, could you come to my office for a moment? I just want to discuss the new proposal, if you’re not busy.”

“Of course, Hermione. Just let me gather my notes.”

After Padma had closed the door behind her and seated herself comfortably, Hermione asked if she was under too much pressure with the new project. Padma answered with a surprised “No!” and asked why Hermione thought that. Hermione explained that she had dropped by the Auror office to finalize details about security at the upcoming meeting in Morocco when she bumped into Harry and learned that Padma had gotten into a huge fight with Ron. Padma admitted they had but not over work. She had berated Ron for his role in Hermione’s current unhappiness. Padma went on to say that she had never been so incensed in her life—she had been literally blinded by her anger. She blamed him completely for Hermione’s long work hours and lack of social life, for causing her to be practically married to her job. 

“And I told him that he’s also responsible for your failure to maintain any relationship since Draco because you’re probably too fearful of disapproval from your so-called friends. Has the arse given you any sort of apology for his behaviour? It’s a pity that the two of us weren’t as close back then because I, for sure, would’ve been on your side and given them all a telling-off like Ginny did. You don’t need to tell me that the rest of the family was also backing him up. His spine gets awfully rigid when he knows he’s not sticking out his head unnecessarily.”

Hermione was speechless for a moment but forced herself to respond. “Padma, I really appreciate you sticking up for me, although I feel bad that it's caused such a rift between you. You two have hardly ever fought over anything; I feel bad to be the cause—” 

“What he did was inconsiderate and downright cruel.”

“He’s not to be blamed for all of it. I should’ve—”

“Hermione, it’s not _your_ fault, so don’t go taking the blame for what they did. I know Susan’s planning on giving Harry a scolding as well, if she hasn’t already.”

“No, I could’ve fought harder—”

Padma sighed and gave Hermione’s hand a squeeze. “Perhaps. But when it’s two against the rest of the world, it’s hard to be brave. I don’t know what Worstall said to you during that secretive meeting, but I can guess, based on how pale you looked afterwards and your break-up not long after that. Seeing Ginny and Draco together has to be hard and uncomfortable, but you can’t let work be your only purpose in life. You should consider taking a short holiday after the meeting next week, maybe even stay in Morocco a few more days. You know there’s nothing urgent here that needs your immediate attention; and besides, we _can_ run the office without you for a few days.”

“Thank you, Padma. I have no fears about leaving the work in your capable hands. It’s just—my mum warned me that running away won’t resolve the problem. I need to stay put and deal with my demons. I’m—it’s too painful to see them together.”

“If you think you still have feelings for him, then why don’t you try fighting for him? Ginny doesn’t seem that serious about it, and I’ve caught him staring at you a few times—”

“No, I couldn’t. Even if what you say about Ginny’s true, he wouldn’t want me now. I hurt him too much.”

“And he didn’t hurt you by just giving up and moving to France?”

“But I hurt him worse, and he doesn’t even know it. When he finds out … ” Hermione broke off and felt the tears forming. Padma hesitated but then prodded gently. “What else happened?”

“I-I lost the baby. I didn’t even _know_ I was pregnant until the Healer told me after the miscarriage. I never told him or anyone. I-I … ” Hermione broke down and cried with gulping sobs. Padma rushed to hug her.

When Hermione finally calmed down, Padma convinced her to extend her stay in Morocco. She wasn’t running away, just getting a change of scenery so that she wasn’t always confronted wherever she went with the current situation and any triggers to the past. Hermione relented, admitting that some time for reflection couldn’t hurt. 

After leaving Hermione’s office, Padma grimly decided that Ron would be sleeping on the couch for the next two weeks. Hermione’s painful confession she would keep private, unless there was need to use it in her defence against the pig-headed clan.

***

“Um, ’Mione, d’you want to take a break? Grab a coffee and, maybe, go for a walk?”

Hermione hadn’t seen Harry act so awkward since First. She acquiesced, and they stepped into Muggle London. Harry let Hermione navigate them and walked beside her in silence. Hermione, guessing the reason for this _tete-a-tete_ , tried her best at small talk.

Harry suddenly cut her off. “’Mione, I’m really sorry for not being more supportive of you and Malfoy … back then. I let our fights at Hogwarts cloud my judgement. He never did anything to hurt you, and I should’ve trusted that you saw enough good in him to give him a chance. You know, it was only when Ginny was yelling at us that I realized I didn’t even see how quiet you’d become. I was so caught up with work and the kids. Some friend I am. And after all you’ve—”

Hermione placed her hand on his shoulder. “Harry, it’s all right. You were just being a good friend trying to protect me from getting hurt. I didn’t do anything to show you how much Draco had changed after the war. I thought that, as long as I stayed in the middle and kept the peace, things would just miraculously work out and we’d all just get along in the end. It was stupid and naive. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the engagement.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, ’Mione! God, if I was in your shoes, I’d go and elope before even bothering to tell any of us; that way, at least we couldn’t do anything to prevent it. But you’ve always put everyone’s needs before your own, and I’ve done nothing but take advantage of it and make you miserable.”

“No, Harry, that’s not true! That’s not true. I was … I was selfish and put my happiness before Draco’s. I begged him to keep our engagement secret and make it seem like we weren’t seeing each other, to give me more time to break the news to everyone. But he said he wouldn’t be my dirty little secret. We said some … ugly things to each other. He thought we should call it all off, and I said fine and told him to leave. And, well, he did.”

Harry grabbed Hermione into a tight hug. He muffled a broken “I’m sorry” into her hair. Any anger and resentment Hermione had felt toward him had been turned into self-recrimination of late, so to hear his apology and sense Harry’s unspoken regrets was a balm. She knew she would always retain a small bit of bitterness, but she knew that Harry would make sure she had his support in every possible way. They could go back to sharing things like they’d used to instead of keeping secrets and putting up facades. Her life would not be as lonely. And right now, that was good enough a start.

***

“You know, ’Mione, if you’re having such problems writing up this new proposal, you should ask someone to help you. No one says you have to figure it all out yourself. Hey, you know who has plenty of experience in writing bureaucracy-speak? Percy. He’s—”

“No.”

“Listen, I know he said something to you that was really prattish, but you know how he is. And you’ve got to admit that no one else in the family has the same knack of—”

“I said ‘no’, Ron.”

“All right, suit yourself. Look, we’re having a little dinner at the house Friday night. Just the grown-ups. Are you free?”

“Yes, of course. Do you need me to bring anything?”

“No, no, you know Padma always cooks too much. See you Friday.” 

Hermione watched Ron walk off and sighed. She knew that both Ron and Harry were trying extra hard to see to her well-being, and while she appreciated their good intentions, their acts of kindness were still hit-and-miss. Ron meant well to suggest Percy’s help, but Hermione never told him or anyone what Percy had said to make her avoid him as much as possible. It was after she had broken things off with Draco that Percy, in his usual pompous tone, had congratulated her on coming to her senses; he also told her that it was a good thing she had redeemed herself when she did because he had been putting together the paperwork that would guarantee that life for the Malfoys would be very difficult in England. Since they had departed for France—and without Hermione in tow—it had saved him the hassle of following up on all the points in his prepared submission to the Wizengamot. Percy had then very kindly removed himself, but not before a parting “I know that people can do some foolish things when they think they’re in love with someone, so I won’t lecture you on your poor decisions.”

Hermione had nearly lost her carefully-constructed calm demeanour at that. She’d had to disappear into Ginny’s room, put a heavy Silencing Charm around, and scream in frustration for several minutes before she felt she could face the rest of the family with civility. And she’d since performed nothing more than the most basic of acknowledgements whenever she and Percy were stuck in the same room together. She didn’t know if Percy knew why she was so cool toward him, but she didn’t care, either.

Hermione looked down at her proposal and wrinkled her nose. She could definitely use some help with it. Perhaps she should swallow her pride and ask the only other person who rivalled Percy in kiss-arse bureaucrat-speak: Cormac McLaggen.

***

“Hello, Hermione.”

“Draco. Hi.” Hermione looked up from her book with a start. It was so familiar yet so uncomfortable to have him standing over her while she put her book away. He gestured to the empty chair across and she nodded. He ordered his usual tea from the server before returning his attention to her. Neither spoke. Hermione sighed. Silences they’d had—angry, cold, sleepy, post-coital, by the fire, in his arms—but never awkward ones. Until today. He squirmed. She fiddled with her cup.

“So … Ginny tells me that you’re planning to open your own business?”

“Expanding, actually. While … living in France, I’ve developed a line of potions that temporarily fix medium-level Quidditch injuries. They allow players to continue playing longer before needing to be checked out by a Healer. Well, at least to sustain them until they can seek the proper help. When I played Quidditch in school, I was constantly getting and seeing injuries that weren’t serious enough to force a player out of the game but were uncomfortable enough to affect performance. It’s less of an issue for international teams with plenty of reserve players, but for the smaller, local leagues, it could mean a difference between winning and losing if a key player has to be benched part-way.”

“That’s - that’s brilliant, Draco!”

“Thanks. Ginny’s team in France was one of the first willing to be guinea pigs. Now that the formulae have been perfected, more teams have been placing orders, and there’s a rumour that the French national coach is thinking about it for the upcoming World Cup.”

“And it’s only fair that our home teams are at least made aware of such products. Level the potential playing field, so to speak. Even if it’s uncertain right now if England or Ireland will even make the finals.”

“Right. You can still read my mind like—I mean … So, how is _your_ job? I hear you’re now head of department. You got rid of Worstall, finally.”

“That was more Kingsley’s doing than mine, but yes. The office is running more efficiently.”

“You were always organized, so I’m not surprised.”

Hermione could feel herself blushing. Flustered, she continued, “Mine is not the only one to benefit from Kingsley’s crackdown, of course, although some of the bigger departments are still trying to adjust to the changes and adopt the new rules for tolerance. It will take time, and I doubt that we will ever be rid of the deadwood and such, but at least there are some noticeable improvements.”

Receiving no reply from Draco, Hermione fiddled with her cup some more, not daring to look at him.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit. You’re a byword within the French Ministry. Kingsley would’ve been a fool not to promote you.” His tone was quiet, and Hermione couldn’t stop herself from looking up. There was no denying the sincerity in his eyes. Her lips trembled, and she wanted very much to be anywhere else, but it would’ve been incredibly rude to not acknowledge such praise, at the very least. But what could she say?

“I … heard from Ginny that the two of you are attending the charity ball for the Harpies on Friday. You’re … sure you’re not bothered that she’s part of the ‘Date with a Quidditch Player’ auction?”

Draco looked like he’d just been doused with cold water. His face took on an aloof rigidity that he always displayed when he shut down, emotionally. “Of course not. It is a fundraiser for the team, and she was most enthusiastic to volunteer. I’m sure she will do very well—she’s made a name for herself abroad. Well, it has been … a pleasure catching up with you. Forgive me for dashing off. I promised to run a few errands for my mother before I dine with them tonight. I’ll see you at The Burrow on Sunday.” 

Hermione could detect the slightest of tremours in that never-forgotten voice, but as her fears had provoked his coldness, she quietly bid him goodbye and watched with dewy eyes his hasty departure until he disappeared from view.

***

“’Mione, I need your help.”

“Sure, Ginny. What is it?”

“Tell me everything you know about chamber music.” At Hermione’s confused look, Ginny explained. “Draco and I went to the clubs with my teammates the other night. Things were going great, but after a while, Draco stopped dancing. When I finally found him drinking alone in a corner, I asked what his problem was, and he said he couldn’t stand the loud music, that it wasn’t even real music. Well, you know me. I challenged him to show me ‘real music’, and now I’m stuck going to some boring concert with him.”

“Chamber music’s not that bad, Ginny. Why don’t we go back to my flat? I’ll put on some CDs for you to get an idea of what to expect.”

“You’re a life-saver, ’Mione. And you’d better get the coffee ready, in case I fall asleep.”

***

“Hermione, come in!”

“How is he doing, Andromeda?”

“Better. His fever broke last night, and his hair is back to its ever-changing self, so that’s always a good sign. He’s in the sunroom. Would you like some tea?”

Hermione thanked Andromeda and made her way down the hall toward the back of the house. As she approached the sunroom, she could hear the distinctive chatter of little Teddy. Harry was probably visiting as well. 

Hermione stopped short at the doorway when she saw Teddy sitting in Draco’s lap.

The two were so involved in their conversation that they didn’t even notice her presence at first, but perhaps she was staring too intently because Draco suddenly looked up. He froze. The awkward silence was broken by a squealing Teddy, who scrambled off his perch and rammed into Hermione’s knees with a big hug. Managing not to topple off her feet, Hermione loosened the tight grip of the tiny arms and wrapped them around her neck as she gave Teddy a kiss on his cheek.

“How are you feeling, Tedmeleon?” Ever since she’d brought the children to the zoo and shown them the lizards’ habitat, Teddy had insisted on being called “Tedmeleon”, since he could change colours like a chameleon. 

“I’m fine, Auntie Hermione! My head felt ever so hot last night, and I couldn’t sleep, but then it got all better when I woke up. I didn’t even know how I fell asleep! And Grandma let me have pancakes for breakfast, and we never have pancakes unless it’s Sunday. And Uncle Draco says that he got ice cream whenever he was sick, but I have to ask Grandma if that’s all right because I never get to eat ice cream unless it’s for something really special. Is that gift for me? Is it a toy?” And grabbing the package from Hermione’s hands, Teddy sat down and tore open the package to reveal a set of magical building blocks. He scrambled toward a corner of the room that held his toy box and took out all his other blocks, which he then moved to the centre of the room to begin building. 

Draco’s throat-clearing startled Hermione, and she stood up from being on her knees. “I-I guess I should be going. I promised my mum I’d be home for dinner. Good of you to visit. Hey, Teddy, I have to go now, but I’m come by again soon.” Teddy got to his feet and whined for Draco to stay. “I’m sorry, little man, but you know how your great-aunt Narcissa doesn’t like people being late for dinner. Now, you go and finish building whatever it is you’re building, and don’t wreck it until I’ve seen it, all right?” Giving the pouting boy a hug, Draco excused himself and went in search of his aunt. Hermione could hear Andromeda protesting his too-early departure but was soon distracted with soothing the downcast Teddy. 

Andromeda’s appearance with a tray of tea and biscuits accelerated Teddy’s crying to an angry fit. The two women were unable to calm him down, and Andromeda finally had to resort to a promise of a cup of warm apple cider, which Aunt Hermione would hold for him to sip on her lap. Andromeda had wisely laced the cider with a Sleeping Draught, and the boy soon nodded off. 

Hermione was rocking him gently and brushing his hair with soothing strokes when Andromeda asked, “Hermione, why are you crying, dear?”

“Oh, am I? It’s nothing. Probably just the stress of the past week. Work has been busy. I’m fine, really.” Hermione hastily wiped away her tears. But then, she found she couldn’t stop.

Andromeda came over, wrapped her arms around them both, and mimicked Hermione’s mothering gestures. She gently told Hermione that the young witch could confide anything to her, provided that she wanted to. The older witch promised she would not judge, definitely would not tell anyone, and would help in any way she could, if that was needed.

In halting, sobbing words, Hermione slowly unburdened herself, telling of her past with Draco, the guilt she still suffered from the loss of their child, and stab of pain she felt when she saw Draco interacting with Teddy. They looked so comfortable together.

As Andromeda tried to soothe the distraught young witch, she encouraged her to not hang onto the guilt. Miscarriage was a sad and painful part of life, but that it happened did not make Hermione a bad person, undeserving of the good things and blessings that life also offered. She had worked hard to get to where she was. Look at all the good she was doing for the wizarding world! Ties with the worldwide community were much improved, and she had definitely been an important player in the bettering of relations between the magical and Muggle worlds.

Without going into details, Andromeda told Hermione how she had similarly encouraged Harry to forgive himself for all the deaths that had resulted in the defeat of Voldemort. The past could never be undone, so carrying its weight into the future was counterproductive—it only served to fuel regret and despair, which would drive a person insane, eventually. And being stuck in the past was no better than being Kissed by a Dementor. Hermione started at this but did not respond.

Andromeda then went on to talk about how she’d had to cope with the loss of husband, daughter, and son-in-law. At their mention, Hermione’s eyes flew to the older witch’s, and she tried to say something, but only pitiful sounds came out. Andromeda brushed Hermione’s cheek and told her not to shoulder _that_ guilt as well. She told Hermione that she’d had a choice to make early on: to either wallow in the guilt or be strong for Teddy’s sake. She had chosen the latter and allowed grief to take its course without taking her along with it. She gently pointed out that perhaps Hermione could try to deal with her guilt the same way she had done with being unable to save all those innocent lives. This was not to downplay the importance of Hermione’s baby’s life, but it was a step toward the forgiveness crucial to restarting her own life, and Hermione needed to do this. Whether she justified it as being for the sake of her parents, the children who all loved her and would miss her terribly if she were lost to them, or herself, it didn’t matter. While she would never forget her little one and was allowed to always keep him or her in her heart, she needed to keep only the memory, not the guilt.

There was no way of accomplishing all of this overnight, of course, but it was time to begin. Hermione was always welcome to come by and talk. 

“It’s a good thing I’d put a warming charm on the tea. It would be stone-cold by now. Come, my dear, have some refreshments. Just put Teddy down beside you.”

Hermione was very quiet as they sipped their teas, but Andromeda didn’t seem to notice. Instead, she kept up a steady stream of conversation, mostly centred around Teddy and what a joy it was to have him in her life. 

When Andromeda bade goodbye to Hermione, she reminded the young witch that her door would always be open. Hermione gave a small smile, her first since their talk, and thanked her for her kindness.

***

Hermione was helping her mum with the dishes when she told her about the talks with Andromeda and how she was slowly coming to terms with her loss. She was stunned to hear her mum reply that she was glad her daughter was finally talking about the issue; she’d been feeling very helpless, knowing what’d happened and seeing Hermione so depressed. But because Hermione had denied these feelings and been reluctant to talk further about the miscarriage, Charmaine had had to bide her time and wait until her daughter was ready.

“I didn’t want to push you, dear, but I felt so guilty about not being able to help you with your pain. It’s just like the helpless feeling your dad and I both had about not being able to protect you from Voldemort.”

“But mum, you couldn’t’ve! It’s not your fault that he and his Death Eaters were going after non-magical people and killing indiscriminately. And I _made_ you let me Obliviate you and Dad. I knew they’d come after you because of me.”

“All parents want to protect their child from harm, even at the cost of their own lives. But not only were your dad and I unable to do that, we knew that if something bad were to happen to you, we wouldn’t even know to grieve! That haunted us for a long time after we got our memories back. It’s only seeing you safe that the guilt has diminished.”

“I’m so sorry, Mum! I’ve been so selfishly caught up in self-pity—”

“Don’t apologize, dear. You’ve been putting on a brave face and shouldering the burden alone. Your needs are just as important as everyone else’s, you know. I’m glad that you’re finally remembering to take care of yourself.”

With her hands soapy, Hermione could only rest her head against her mum’s shoulder. For once, she did not break down completely in tears at the mention of the pain she was inflicting on family and friends from her own inability to move past her suffering. Charmaine wiped away a few stray droplets and kissed the top of her head. She knew that the healing would take time but was relieved it had finally begun. 

She and Edmund would talk long into the night after Hermione left.

***

“Auntie ’Mione, I don’t think I like sex.”

Poor Hermione’s eyes were watering profusely by the time she had her choking fit under control. Thankfully, she had caused minimal damage to the tabletop and none to the floor. Little Amelia, strapped into her chair, was giving tiny wails of distress at the scene, so Hermione tended to her first. After calming Amelia, Hermione turned her attention to James and asked how he knew what sex was.

James answered solemnly. “Mummy told me. I asked Daddy and her last night at dinner. Daddy choked just like you did. And Mummy asked why I want to know. I told them Auntie Ginny and Uncle Draco were fighting about it yesterday. I finished building my castle and wanted to show Uncle Draco. I heard them in the kitchen, so I came, and then I heard them talking like Mummy and Daddy when they fight but don’t want Amelia or me to hear them. Uncle Draco was saying he doesn’t want sex anymore, and Auntie Ginny was mad and saying she would play sex with other men if he didn’t like her. Mummy told me that sex is a sport like Quidditch that only grown-ups can play and only when they’re really, really old. I asked if she and Daddy like to play it, and she said ‘Sometimes.’ And I figured that if only grown-ups can play it but it makes people mad at each other, then I don’t want to play it ever.”

Hermione hugged James tightly and assured him that sex didn’t always make people mad at each other, but it was definitely something that he’d need to be a very, very old grown-up to understand and want to play and see why grown-ups sometimes liked it.

***

Hermione was having a light-hearted and lively discussion about the merits of Ever-Bashing Boomerangs as conduits of magic (as opposed to wands) with her colleagues from Germany, Brazil, and Thailand when she felt a new presence beside her. She introduced Draco to everyone, and the discussion continued. Soon after, Draco asked her to dance.

“Good to see you’re still passionate about debating.”

“You know: once a Gryffindor … ”

“And why Ever-Bashing Boomerangs?”

“When you constantly see the same group of people at such events, you run out of topics. And there’s only so much time you can spend asking about family and work. The weather and the merits of using magic to manipulate it was already discussed to death last year.”

“I see. Too polite to discuss the recent restructuring of the Grecian Ministry or the illegal cross-breeding of fire-crabs and Mackled Malaclaws?”

“Oh no. A few of us have been planning the fall of Papadopoulos and his cronies for six months; it’s just not publicly known that the implosion had external triggers. As for the illegal breeding, it would make more sense to cross-breed fire-crabs and Streelers than with Mackled Malaclaws—not that I’m condoning it. By the way, where’s Ginny?”

“As far as I know, at home. She hates these political events, I’m sure you’re aware. I’ve been reconnecting with the boys in Mysteries, and they invited me to come along.”

“If you’re planning on getting them to test and approve your potions, just remember what happened with Rhodri Wainwright. The Chinese Ministry approved his product in two weeks, and now we have to import it at an outrageous price.”

“Ah, you forget that you can find it at a fraction of the cost if you’d deign to frequent Knockturn Alley.”

“Unfortunately, most of them are either fakes or diluted, just as useless. You have to be a Potions master to tell the difference.”

“Oh, it’s not _that_ difficult. You’re just too proud to go slumming like the rest of the populace.”

“Says the scion of one of the wealthiest families. What would _you_ know about the lives of the populace?”

“You know, being rich doesn’t mean you should throw good money away. My family didn’t become rich by being cheated by shopkeepers.”

“So, _de Bourgh and Sons’_ clothing must really be as good quality as their outrageous price tags claim, seeing as how you shop there exclusively.”

“That’s different! Clothes are in contact with my skin—it has to feel luxurious.”

“And yet, you wouldn’t worry about dubious potions you _ingest_ into your body.”

“Are you calling me a hypocrite?”

“You said it. I’m merely making an observation.”

“Witch!”

“Snob.”

Before they could continue teasing one another, the Puerto Rican ambassador interrupted and asked if he could have the next dance. As she was spun away from Draco, Hermione caught him staring at her with a look of disappointment, but he quickly turned away when their eyes met.

***

“Andromeda, are you home?”

“What is it, Hermione?”

“We’ve had an accident at Harry’s. Can you come over?”

“Of course.”

After Andromeda stepped through, Hermione explained that the children had been chasing each other around the yard when things got a bit rough and James took a tumble. Could Andromeda look after the rest of the children while Hermione brought James to St. Mungo’s to make sure he didn’t have a concussion? Andromeda reassured her and hurried them toward the Floo. But Hermione had not even taken three steps when she felt something tugging at her leg.

“Una, Auntie Hermione is just going to have James checked out to make sure he’s not hurt. Will you be good and stay here with Grandma Anda? We’ll be back soon, and then we can play cards.” But the little girl shook her head, tightened her hold, and began to whimper.

“Hermione, why don’t you stay here while I bring James? Come with me, James, dear. If you’re brave, they might even give you some nasty medicine to taste.” James, who’d been protesting that he was fine, that he didn’t need to be checked out like a baby—he hit his head all the time!—brightened at the thought of being able to brag about nasty medicine and allowed himself to be Floo’d away.

Hermione picked up little Una and dried her tears. She was occupied the next several minutes attending to the other demanding voices and settling them into small groups to play the board games she kept at Harry’s and which had been her favourites growing up. She also made sure they each had a glass of milk and a small plate of cookies.

When the children were properly occupied, Hermione was startled to discover that she was not the only adult in the room. Narcissa Malfoy had been standing to one side, quietly observing.

“My apologies for startling you, Miss Granger. I was having tea with my sister when you Floo-called, and I’d thought to come with ’Meda to help with the children, but I see that you have things under control. If you’ll excuse me, I should go.”

“I’m sorry I intruded upon your visit, Mrs. Malfoy. Please, would you stay and have some tea? Things shouldn’t take long at St. Mungo’s. You could reconvene your visit with Andromeda—that is, if you wouldn’t mind waiting here?”

“I would be delighted. But if you don’t mind, I think it best if I prepare tea. I doubt the children would be comfortable to be left with a stranger in the room.”

“Oh no, please, have a seat. They are quite used to new visitors. And besides, they’re quite happily absorbed in their games. I’ll be right back. Come, Una, let’s get some milk to go with that cookie.”

As they settled down to tea, Narcissa complimented Hermione on her ability to look after so many children. Hermione replied that although she was the only child, she had a large extended family and was one of the older children, so she grew up bossing her cousins around.

“Auntie ’Mione is the bestest aunty.” Now that Una was snuggled happily against her Auntie ’Mione, she was no longer shy. Narcissa smiled at the little girl and agreed with her. Hermione hastily steered the topic to safer waters, and the ladies passed the next hour in polite conversation.

When Andromeda and James returned, the beaming James declaring he had survived the most disgusting medicine he’d ever tasted, Hermione slyly handed Una over to him “to take care of”. Una immediately went to James, who was her favourite cousin because he always protected her from teasing.

The rest of the afternoon passed uneventfully, and Hermione was surprised at how comfortable she felt conversing with Narcissa, as she insisted she be called. Things had been very pleasant between them, but with the addition of Andromeda, Hermione became privy to a playful and sarcastic side of Narcissa. Hermione realized that Draco had inherited these traits from his mother.

At six o’clock, Narcissa and Andromeda, with a reluctant Teddy in tow, Floo’d home, and soon after, the children were also picked up by their parents. Harry and Susan had not batted an eye when told of James’ mishap, although Susan, a glint in her eye, informed James that he needed to eat an extra serving of vegetables that night to help heal his head. James magnanimously stated that vegetables could not harm him, now that he’d survived taking the medicine.

When Hermione arrived home, she couldn’t help but replay the events of the day, especially her unexpected interaction with Narcissa. She felt a tinge of regret that she couldn’t get to know the older witch better. But she pushed away the thought and went about preparing dinner for herself and Crookshanks.

***

“Hello, Hermione.”

“Draco! You startled me. And here I thought I’d be the only one here tonight. Missed the view, haven’t you?”

“I have. Didn’t have time while trying to develop the potions, so I thought I’d take advantage, now that I’m home. When was the last time you were here?”

“Oh, three months ago, I guess. It’s still my favourite spot to see the Aurora Borealis, despite the cold. Hot chocolate?”

“Please. What music have you brought this time?”

“My favourite: Arvo Part.”

“Excellent. Can we start with _Spiegel im Spiegel_?” 

Hermione nodded and conjured a cup for Draco. She poured some hot chocolate out of her thermos and charmed the CD she’d pulled out. She’d figured out, with Arthur Weasley’s help, how to charm electronic devices to work using magic, but it was even easier to burn a playlist onto a CD and charm it to play music instead bringing along a player—one less thing to carry. Besides, she’d discovered that her player always went a bit haywire when the Northern Lights were in full-force. 

“I’m glad that most people still find Svalbard too cold and remote to visit. It looks like we’ll have the place to ourselves tonight.” 

“Agreed. Plus, they’re expecting a huge storm tomorrow. People probably don’t want to be caught out in the wilderness.”

“Good thing for Portkeys, then.”

“Hush, it’s about to start. Drink your hot chocolate before it gets cold.”

***

“She is so unbelievably snobbish!” Ginny declared as she stepped through the open door. She flopped into a chair and helped herself to a glass of juice and some cookies. Hermione hung up Ginny’s coat and joined her by the coffee table.

“Who is she, and what has she done to make you so mad?”

“Narcissa Malfoy! She’s back at the Manor for a short stay. I was tricked into having tea with her and “the ladies”. Every clink I made with my cup, every opinion I expressed, she just raised an eyebrow and showed me her nostrils. I’m sure she wanted to prove that I wouldn’t fit into that circle of snobbery, and she’s right! But I put all their noses out of joint by the end. I’ve got enough gossipy relatives as is; I sure as hell am not going to _surround_ myself with them on a regular basis.”

“Oh, Ginny, you just have to pretend they are stupid and ignorant, with the emotional maturity of three-year-olds. Smile and nod and know that you don’t live with them.”

“Circe’s teat, I’d _kill_ myself. No wait: I’d kill them—strangle them with a silk napkin or drown them in the bathtub filled with Lady Grey. Speaking of which: that is the single most disgusting tea I’ve ever tasted!”

“Strange, Narcissa doesn’t strike me as the type who likes Lady Grey. She seemed perfectly content with the herbal tea I served at Harry’s.”

“Probably the only thing the other biddies drink. I will admit, condescension aside, she _does_ know how to be a good hostess. Now, what’s this about having tea with her at Harry’s, of all places?” Hermione told her about the time a few weeks ago when Andromeda helped bring James to St. Mungo’s after his tumble. “Well, you’ve always known how to be diplomatic with such idiots that I have no patience for. Good thing Harry and I ended when it did. Can you imagine me having to entertain those types at every event?”

“Well, you’d better start practising, Ginny. Things will be even more complicated as Draco’s wife.”

“Wait, hold on a minute! No one said anything about marriage. We’re a _long_ way from that. Just going to enjoy things as is. We’ll deal with that stuff later, if it happens.”

“If? Not that I’m pressuring you, Ginny, but Draco seems pretty serious about things. You _see_ the effort he’s making to get along with everyone during Sunday Brunch.”

“Well, he should learn to get along with them, in any case. We’ve been out of school for how many years now? About time we all settle our differences.”

“I suppose I can’t argue with that. It _is_ nice seeing them get along.”

“It’s like that Muggle song from your collection: ‘ _Que sera, sera_ ’.”

“Ginny, I really don’t think—”

“Oh look at the time! Sorry, ’Mione, got to dash! We’ll continue this some other time. We’ve got extra practice sessions this week. I just really needed to let off some steam. Thanks for listening!” With that and a quick hug, Ginny grabbed her coat and Floo’d home for her equipment.

Hermione stared at the flames for several minutes, not really wanting to explore the reason for her anger. She forced herself to take a few calming breaths. When that didn’t help, she knew she had to get out of her flat. She made sure that Crookshanks had food and water, grabbed her coat and some nourishment, and Portkey’d to her other favourite sanctuary, Friar’s Crag, to do some meditating. 

The sky was clear, so she stayed after sunset to do some stargazing.

***

Hermione’s eyes widened as she looked about the lavish but tastefully decorated ballroom. Grudgingly, she had to admit that the “society witches” knew how to organize charity events. She observed and examined everything: the setup of the various stations, the efficiency of directing guests to their proper tables, the way the table was arranged (from the name cards to the height of the centrepiece, everything was thoughtfully planned), the variety of non-alcoholic drinks, the scrumptious _hors d’oeuvres_ … she was taking mental notes for future use. She excused herself to Harry—Susan was under the weather and had insisted that Harry be her date—and mingled. This was her first time attending, and she wanted to do as much socializing as possible. Her not-so-elevated status within the department and other international functions that she’d helped organize (and sometimes hosted) had prevented her from coming in years past. It was a veritable who’s who of the wizarding world assembled in one room. The event was a guaranteed success.

As she made the rounds, she was stopped by Narcissa, who greeted her with a delighted, “Hermione! You’ve come! I’m so glad. I was just puzzling over whom I should ask to be the third judge for the floral competition—just a bit of fun, of course, and they are to be auctioned off later in the evening. Gladys Robards came down with a dreadful cold yesterday and couldn’t be here. You’ll help, won’t you?”

“Of course, Narcissa. Thank you for thinking of me.”

“Not at all! Ah, Lucius, thank you, just what I need for my parched throat. Hermione, you remember my husband?”

“How do you do, Mr. Malfoy?” 

Hermione was stunned when he shook her proffered hand firmly and replied, “Pleasure, Miss Granger. A good turnout, isn’t it? Wonderful that the younger generations are taking a keen interest in the betterment of society. I hear you are making great progress in liaising with the international community. It’s no wonder Worstall had to retire—you’ve accomplished more in the past year than he had his entire career.”

“You’re too kind, Mr. Malfoy. I really haven’t made _that_ noteworthy an impact, but thank you for the compliment. And how have you been occupying your time recently?”

“Oh, attending functions like these and keeping out of Narcissa’s reach the remainder of the time. I would much rather spend a quiet evening in my study, but when duty calls … ”

“Oh hush, Lucius! You make it sound like I’d hex you within an inch of your life if you didn’t attend. Need I remind you that I must suffer through your Quidditch charities? Hermione, make sure you find out how much of a fanatic any wizard you date is, save yourself from future headache and boredom.”

“How is Quidditch more tedious than those tea parties you constantly host? Take _my_ advice, Miss Granger, and avoid attending one of _those_. Such a gathering of clucking hens as I’ve ever heard.”

“Well, I’ll remember to tell the elves not to set aside any pastries for you next Thursday. Now, if you’ll excuse us, I must get Hermione ready for the judging.” 

Hermione barely had enough time to say her goodbyes when Narcissa whisked her away. She felt rather bemused by the conversation she’d just had with Draco’s parents. Their reception of her was vastly different from her last encounter with them. The elder Malfoys had always been politically astute, and Hermione supposed that her current position within the Ministry had won her some common courtesy. Hermione’s musings were cut short as she was introduced to the planning committee, the other judges, and the contestants in quick succession, and she spent the next fifteen minutes looking at the displays and attempting to choose the top three. She was relieved to note that her choices were in accordance with the other two judges—this was a popularity contest, so the creator of the display counted for more than the floral arrangement itself. 

The rest of the charity passed uneventfully. Harry had insisted that she choose two things from the silent auction: one to help cheer up Susan and the other for herself. Harry paid a ridiculous sum for her piece but stemmed her protests by pointing out that it was for charity, after all. Hermione could only hug him tightly and thank him.

***

It was after brunch at The Burrow. Percy, who’d been doing overtime on weekends to finish his project with International Co-op, had decided he would grace the gathering with his presence. Molly had fussed while the others teased. He had learned to take the ribbings with better humour after marrying Penelope, who loved playing tricks on him just to make him mad. And the twins, of course, were more than happy to help with whatever she needed.

Penelope was telling them about the seething witch who had barged into Percy’s office on Friday and nearly clobbered him for daring to send her husband and her an invitation addressed to “Mr. and Mrs. Dungworth-Rattlebag”. She furiously told him that she had refused to change her surname after marriage.

“What was her maiden name, Penny?”

“Smellie. Although she pronounced it ‘smeelie’.”

“And she thought her husband’s was worse?”

“Indeed! I almost laughed when she told me. I issued a new one to her on the spot, but really, it was a natural assumption that she’d change her surname after marriage. She looked about eighty-five, so it’s not as if she was on of the ‘modern witches’ who refuse to accept tradition.”

“What does age have to do with anything, Perce? She preferred her surname to his. There’s nothing wrong with that! Just because Penny had no objection to changing hers doesn’t mean we all should. _I_ plan on keeping my name after marriage—it’s how I’m known, internationally.”

“And have you discussed this with your future husband, Gin? Malfoy, you’re fine with this?”

Draco rolled his eyes but replied calmly, “We haven’t discussed it, no, but I’m sure we can reach some sort of compromise.”

“I’m _not_ hyphenating my name, either. I’ll respond to ‘Mrs.’ if I have to, but I’m not legally changing my name for anyone.”

“Well, I suppose it doesn’t really matter, eh Malfoy? So long as the kids have the proper surname?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, George! Of course it matters! Women marry into the family, so they should take on the proper surname.”

“Perce, don’t be a prat! Gin’s got a point: people won’t know who she is if she sports a new name on her team uniform. And, no offence, Malfoy, but if _that_ is printed on her back, there’s a chance that a riot could happen in the stands. Not everyone’s forgiven what’s happened, you know.”

“Thanks, Fred. And to answer your question, George: so long as I get to choose their given names, I’m not as fussed about the surname.”

“You mean you were planning on calling your kids ‘Weasleys’, Gin?”

“No, not unless there’s no husband in the picture. What I mean is that, since I can’t do anything about the surname, it’s only fair that I choose the other names.”

“And what sort of names did you have in mind, Ginny? Bear in mind that it’s been a tradition in my family to use Classical names or to name children after celestial bodies.”

“Ugh, how archaic! I heard some really lovely names while playing in Brazil, so I’d probably pick from that list.”

“What? There’s no way any child of mine will have a Spanish or Portuguese name!”

“What’s wrong with those names?”

“They’re all pirates and pillagers!”

“Oh, and the Malfoy name is so unblemished, is it? I seem to recall—” But before Ginny could finish her sentence, she was dragged out of the room and into the kitchen by Padma. Susan tried to smooth things over with Draco while the rest of them broke off into smaller groups and found something to occupy their time. Draco left soon after, stiffly requesting that Susan pass on his regrets to Molly and Arthur.

Hermione had kept quiet throughout the conversation, and she hid herself in the bathroom soon after Ginny was pulled away. She spent several minutes scolding herself for being delighted that the pair had argued. Then, she spent the next few minutes composing herself so that she would appear nonchalant. All the while, though, a small voice kept telling her that she was of the same opinion as Ginny, for the most part, and wouldn’t it have been fun to goad Draco even worse?

***

Hermione rushed to St. Mungo’s after receiving Draco’s owl. She found him bent over his knees, clutching his hair in despair.

“Draco, what happened? Is she all right?”

He looked haggard. “She was showing her teammates the Wronski Feint and - and collided with the pitch. I _knew_ I shouldn’t’ve shown—she’s so reckless—so, they brought her here. I insisted on a private room, and they’re bringing in the best Healers. Her neck’s not broken, thank Merlin, but they’ve put her in a coma to let the injuries heal.”

Hermione rubbed his back with soothing circles and asked gently, “Have you owl’d The Burrow yet?”

“ _Gods!_ Her parents will _kill_ me if anything happened to her! No, I-I didn’t even think when I sent you the owl … ”

“Well, seeing as she’s not in any life-threatening danger, I’m just going to go and owl them, tell them not to worry.”

“And tell them I’ll pay for everything.”

“I will. Are you going to be all right while I send the owl? I’ll only be a minute.”

“Yes.”

When Hermione returned, she presented him with a cup of tea and some biscuits from the cafeteria. She coaxed him to finish the lot, all the while reassuring him that it wasn’t his fault. Ginny had always defied prudence, and if nothing else, this would be a good lesson for her. She was much too used to her own way. And besides—

Hermione felt a finger on her lips to silence her, and she looked into a pair of grey eyes much too close to her own. In an instant, the finger was replaced by warm lips. And the years slipped away, regret forgotten, as she pressed herself into his arms, fervently matching the ferocity of his kisses. She had been such a fool to let him go.

Suddenly, Hermione pushed him away. “No, Draco, we can’t—Ginny—oh, _why_ did you do that—it’s too _late_ for … ” and she ran as fast as she could, as far away from him, the memories, the remorse, the _temptation_ …

***

When the Healers had deemed it safe to restore Ginny from the magical coma, the nurse came for Draco and told him there would be no lasting damage and that Ginny was asking for him. With a huge sigh of relief, Draco heaved out of the chair and followed.

Ginny looked paler than usual but was otherwise her usual, saucy self, greeting him with a snarky, “If I didn’t know better, I’d think _you_ were the one who’d almost broken her neck being stupidly reckless. You’re sure you don’t want the Healers to put you in a coma for a few days? Recover those dashing good looks?”

“How are you feeling, Ginny?” He kissed her forehead.

“Definitely need to ask about that coma. Apparently, your wit has gone the same way as your looks. What’s the matter, Draco? Did you get one of my mum’s famous trimmings? You have to forgive her—she gets quite ferocious when one of her young is injured. You saw—well, maybe not _saw_ , but certainly knew—what she did to your batty aunt Bellatrix.”

“Ginny, I’m sorry, I hate being such a cad, especially right now, but I don’t think we can … continue seeing each other.”

“Is this one of those ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ speeches? Because, I have to say, I’m disappointed at the lack of originality.”

“I—see, when I first agreed to that first date, I thought I could handle returning home, seeing everyone. But I was a fool. I had this selfish idea that I’d finally—”

“Take revenge on Hermione for dumping your sorry arse and prove to her that you had moved on?” Draco gaped. Ginny patted his cheek fondly. “I know why you agreed to this whole charade, Draco. And you needn’t feel guilty about it because that was my intention as well—after a while, when it became obvious that neither of you had moved on. I was really mad when you told me we had to stop having sex. And admit it, your excuse was pathetic. But after I thought about it, I realized I was fine with trying to bring you two together again. You and I don’t have much in common besides physical attraction. And I really want the old Hermione back. She deserves to be happy again. 

"When I left for Brazil for that one year, you and Hermione were happily engaged, if unknown to everyone else. Then, when I decided to play in France, I heard about the break-up, and then you showed up not too long after with the idea to develop those magical potions. When I finally came home last summer, I found Hermione unhappy and a shell of her former self and Harry and my idiot brother completely oblivious to it. _Boys!_

"After I turned matchmaker, I also decided I’d give you both a sound slapping for still wallowing in your misery after all this time. I tried so hard to make you see how much more compatible Hermione is than me. And I tried to make her jealous of us together. I hadn’t counted on the near-broken neck, of course, but otherwise, you two were carrying out the plan beautifully, behaving exactly like I wanted. And now, you’ve come to your senses. Took you long enough.” When Draco could offer nothing but a stunned expression, Ginny sighed. She slapped him upside his head. “Well, are you going to just sit there like a gaping fish, or are we going to plan how you’re to get Hermione back?”

Draco recovered. “You’re wasted as Chaser, Ginny. You should’ve followed in your double-dose brothers’ footsteps and become a Beater.”

“How boring. I get to do that at home all the time. Where’s the challenge? Anyway, that’s not the point. Since your mental faculties have clearly taken an inconvenient leave of absence, here’s how I think we should proceed … ”

***

_Hermione,_

_Draco tried to commit suicide and is now in St. Mungo’s. Please hurry!_

_Ginny_

Ginny greeted a dishevelled and frantic Hermione in the hallway. “Oh, Hermione, you’re here! They put him in my room. It’s a good thing I hadn’t already been discharged.”

Hermione didn’t even have the presence of mind to thank her or ask how she was faring. It would be much later that she would recall how calm Ginny had been. And that she had locked the door.

Bursting into the room, Hermione stopped short when she stared at a startled and very-much-in-one-piece Draco sitting on the bed. He was staring back at her. 

She recovered and let out a big sigh of relief. Then, the anger hit.

Forgetting that she was a witch with an arsenal of powerful and deadly hexes at her disposal, she launched herself at him and began pummelling him with every last bit of strength she possessed.

“Ow-ow-ow! I’d forgotten what a nasty right hook you had. Will you stop hitting— _ow_!” 

Finally recovering from the shock of her onslaught, Draco grabbed hold of his wand and bound her arms tightly to her sides with a partial Body Bind. Then, he made her straddle him and kissed her fiercely. Hermione’s vain struggles were no match for his firm grip and insistent lips. She eventually stopped squirming and began kissing him back. She also began crying with such racking sobs that they had to break their liplock.

Draco removed the spell and wound her arms around his neck, shushing her and rubbing her back. That only served to make her sob harder. He murmured reassuring noises, alternating with his apologies for being an arse, and rocked her gently.

When Hermione had finally cried herself out, she became fully aware of where she was and how inappropriate a position she was in. She struggled to disentangle herself but couldn’t get out of his embrace. When asked what she was doing, she told him she didn’t deserve another chance. When asked why not, she finally blurted, “Because I lost our baby!”

Draco went rigidly still. Hermione renewed her struggle, all the while avoiding his eyes. He came out of stasis and pulled her arms behind her back, securing them with one arm while his free hand grasped her chin. “Look at me!” When Hermione resignedly obeyed, he told her quietly, “You should’ve told me. You shouldn’t’ve had to deal with that alone.” Tears spent, Hermione could only tremble and shake. 

He kissed her forehead. “You didn’t think I’d let you off so easily, did you? You owe me at least two little Malfoys before I decide if I’ll forgive you.” Well, _that_ wrangled a watery chuckle from her. 

A more docile Hermione returned his kisses.

And when they finally decided to go in search of their matchmaker, they found the note that Ginny had slipped under the door.

 _Sorry for deviating from our plan, Draco, but I’m sure you’ll agree that my_ real _plan is working out much better. Don’t worry about the discharge paperwork—I’ve handled it._

After arriving back at Hermione’s flat, she insisted on itemizing all the ways that she’d wronged Draco. It took him most of the remainder of the day to convince her that he had equal share in the blame and that he was a complete prat for using Ginny to hurt her. It was a good thing Ginny had a better plan. Draco also managed to finally convince her that he never for a moment blamed her for not telling him about the miscarriage.

When he’d finally succeeded in drying her tears, Draco made Hermione promise that, henceforth, instead of crying herself to sleep, she would go to him with any problems; he would even allow hitting and screaming, provided they did not damage his good looks. And as they sequestered themselves into Hermione’s bed, snuggled tightly, limbs comfortably entangled, they promised to take things slow and not let go of this hard-earned second chance.


End file.
